


i like that you're broken (broken like me)

by sylvains_fat_meat (bonhomie)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonhomie/pseuds/sylvains_fat_meat
Summary: Maybe that makes me a fool.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	i like that you're broken (broken like me)

It’s a coping mechanism, or something. It’s a fucked one, but, well, Ashe thinks someone who has as much baggage and money as Sylvain but refuses to get therapy is gonna be fucked up.

They’re not friends. They’re not even acquaintances. Ashe knows Sylvain, but Sylvain doesn’t know Ashe. And Ashe is glad to keep it that way. Better not to get involved with someone like Sylvain, someone who goes through girls like a bibliophile flips through pages, someone who smiles with his lips but calculates with his eyes.

The first time Ashe sees Sylvain is at a party. It’s at some frat with enough booze to get you drunk from breathing in the air, and Ashe only came because his classmates casually invited him and being alone on a Friday night when even his nerdy roommate is going out is fucking depressing.

Ashe perches on the arm of a couch in the living room, holding a plastic cup of beer with two hands. Someone gave it to him. He doesn’t know whether he’s meant to hold it for them or meant to drink it. He sits there, eyes darting around awkwardly as he waits for...what? He didn’t even come with anyone. He has nothing to do here.

A giddy shriek draws Ashe’s attention. He turns just in time to see a girl fall straight into someone’s arms, spilling her beer on the guy’s shirt.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she giggles, batting her eyelashes as she very comfortably leans against the guy’s chest and pointedly drags her fingers down his shirt, tracing the stain. “Oh no, I ruined your shirt…”

“No, no, it’s no problem,” the guy responds, shooting her a grin. “Actually, can I take this to mean you’ve fallen for me?”

Ashe watches as one thing leads to another and they head upstairs. Holy shit, that kind of thing happened in real life? He was feeling way in over his head. Ashe sets down the cup he’s holding on a nearby coffee table and hustles on out of there.

The next time Ashe sees Sylvain, it’s at one of the countless cafes on campus. Ashe remembers him because, well, even Ashe had to admit the guy was handsome. And it’s not every day you see a six foot tall redhead, anyway. There’s a girl on his arm, and while Ashe doesn’t remember what the girl at the party looked like, he’s pretty sure this wasn’t the same girl.

It’s none of his business, Ashe tells himself, looking away. And if he happened to be acutely aware of what Sylvain ordered and when he left the cafe, well, that was no one else’s business, either.

It’s not until Ashe goes to another party that he finally learns Sylvain’s name. Not from the man himself, goodness no. He hears a couple of people gossiping next to him as he perches on the arm of another couch, holding another cup of beer that had mysteriously been handed to him.

“Is Sylvain coming?” one girl asks.

“Is that even a question?” the other laughs.

“I mean, I don’t know...he’s usually here by now.” The girl tucks her hair behind her ear nervously.

“Why are you so antsy to see him, huh?” her friend jeers. “You in love or something?”

“O-Of course not!” the girl splutters, slapping her friend on the arm. “I-I’m not stupid…”

Her friend smiles behind her cup of beer. “Then what? You wanna get laid?”

The girl gasps and slaps her friend’s arm again.

“Ow! Hey!” her friend laughs. “I mean, what else? Don’t tell me you wanna be friends with him. Ha! Imagine.”

The girl quirks her mouth shyly. “Well...I don’t know...I just--oh! He’s here!” She quickly sits up.

Ashe follows her gaze, and lo and behold, there Sylvain is, in all his redheaded glory.

“Hey,” the girl’s friend says, her tone taking an unexpectedly serious tone. Ashe glances back at them.

“Y-Yeah?” the girl stutters, taken aback when her friend holds her hands.

“If you wanna become his sugar baby, I’ll support you,” the friend says, before bursting into laughter.

“Shut up!” the girl squeaks, pulling her hands away and giving her friend’s arm one last slap before slowly making her away across the room to follow Sylvain.

Ashe looks into his cup. So the playboy’s name is Sylvain, huh? And it seems like he’s rich. The total opposite of him. Maybe that’s why Ashe couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was just intrigued by someone so different from himself, that’s all.

Over the course of the next few months, Ashe pieces together more information about Sylvain from the gossip he is totally not eavesdropping on at parties.

Sylvain sleeps with a new girl every week and never remembers their names. Despite his reputation, girls can’t get enough of him. He goes to every party he’s invited to and has a crazy high alcohol tolerance. He’s a beer pong champ, and his friends say he’s the life of any party he attends.

He’s good at math, apparently, despite never studying. He is especially fond of historical literature, and all the library employees recognize him whenever he comes in. He is a regular writer for the school newspaper, submitting rather sincere reviews of books and movies.

He has an older brother whom he hates. He treats his friends well, and is especially protective of his friends from his hometown. He’s the oldest of his childhood friends, and though he is always eager to please them, they often scorn him in response. He’s never treated a girlfriend as well as he’s treated his childhood friends.

Not to be an armchair psychologist, Ashe thinks, but Sylvain’s behavior is definitely his way of compensating for something. Is it because he couldn’t have the older brother he wanted that he tried to become an older brother to his friends? How does it feel, Ashe wonders, to have your friends rebuff your efforts, and to wonder if the reason they do is because you’re a shitty older brother, just like your own? Maybe he knew what not to do, but that didn’t mean he knew what he should do.

And why is it that Sylvain treasures the friends he’s so close to, yet won’t do the same for the girls he gets close to in other ways? All the girls he’s dumped have said the same thing. He thinks they’re only after his money, or only want him for the prestige of being with a Gautier. Or even worse, they’re only after him for his body, for a fling, but when Sylvain himself is the one setting this reputation with his own actions, can he really blame them?

What fucked up Sylvain’s sense of self-worth so badly that he’s decided on following this self-fulfilling prophecy? The man is broken, and even all the king’s horses and all the king’s men wouldn’t be able to put him back together again.

Ashe is sitting in the stairwell of an apartment building, aimlessly scrolling on his phone as he wonders why he’s come to yet another party, just for the chance to hear a little more about Sylvain, as if he’s obsessed with the guy, or worse, in l--

“Whoa, hey! Didn’t see you there--I almost stepped on you,” a warm voice says from behind him.

Ashe jumps up and spins around, looking like a deer in the headlights.

“Sorry, did I startle you?” Sylvain says, looming even taller over Ashe as he stands on a higher step. How is it that even though he’s backlit by the light shining above them, his eyes still sparkle so brightly?

“Uh--I--uh--” Ashe’s brain has short circuited.

“Mind if I sit?” Sylvain says, stepping down to Ashe’s level and taking a seat without waiting for Ashe’s response. “Just wanted a breather, you know?”

Ashe doesn’t know, he doesn’t know what’s going on, he doesn’t know anything right now, and so all he can do is sit down next to Sylvain like some kind of monkey mirroring what it sees.

“You’re...Ashe, right?” Sylvain says, snapping his fingers when the name comes to him. He smiles. “I’ve seen you at a lot of these parties.”

Ashe’s mouth gapes like a fish. Sylvain knows his name? Heck, Sylvain recognizes him? He exists on Sylvain’s radar?

“You know, it’s been bothering me,” Sylvain says, with a bit of a laugh. “I see you come to these parties, but you never do anything. You never come with anyone, you never talk to anyone, you don’t even drink. So what do you come for?” Sylvain shoots him a smile, and Ashe realizes that observing Sylvain from afar is nothing compared to feeling the full force of Sylvain’s charm head-on.

“I...uh…” Ashe’s mind is whirring for an excuse. “You know me?” His brain is lagging behind like a full three minutes.

Sylvain bursts into a laugh, and Ashe thinks it’s the most beautiful damn thing in the world. “Uh, yeah! Yeah! Haha.” He pauses. “You know me, right?”

And despite himself, Ashe somehow manages to laugh. “Of course,” Ashe says, and it feels like the hamster powering his brain has finally gotten back on its wheel. “The one and only Sylvain Gautier.”

Sylvain’s smile falters for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough for Ashe to notice.

“I mean…” For some reason, Ashe feels bad. “I think...you’re not as bad as I thought…?” Ashe can hear the words coming out of his mouth, and he cringes. “I mean--”

“No, no, I get it,” Sylvain laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t exactly made a name for myself through good deeds or anything.”

Ashe frowns, and only feels even more guilty. “No, I mean...I really do think...you’re more than people make you out to be…”

It’s Sylvain’s turn to short circuit, and Ashe can’t help taking some pride in the way Sylvain looks at him, completely dumbfounded. Sylvain’s eyelashes are so long, Ashe thinks.

“I, uh,” Ashe fiddles with his fingers. “I’ve been watching you,” he admits, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “N-Not in a weird way, or anything!” Ashe waves frantically. He pauses. “Okay, maybe a little weird...it’s just that...I don’t know...At first I thought you were just a playboy, an asshole even”--his eyes flick to Sylvain to gauge his reaction, but Sylvain, goddamn it, was watching him with rapt attention, as if Ashe were the most important person in the world right now--“but...it’s the little things, I guess...The way you stay after parties to help clean up...or the way you always make sure to leave something in the tip jar at cafes...You’re...actually a nice guy, but why do you keep doing things to make it seem like you’re not? As if you _want_ everyone to hate you…”

A few seconds of silence pass before Ashe processes what he just said and frantically tries to backtrack. But just as he opens his mouth, Sylvain speaks.

“You’re right,” Sylvain says, and he’s looking straight at Ashe, and Ashe feels a chill run up his spine. “God, am I that easy to read?” he sighs. “I don’t even know why I do it...it’s like...I don’t want to give people the chance to be disappointed in me, so I make sure they never expect anything in the first place…” He laughs sardonically. “So you like me that much, huh?” he asks, in a thinly veiled attempt to change the subject. “You like me enough to watch me and figure out this much about me?”

Ashe splutters. “Don’t deflect!” he says.

“Ah, right, I’m doing it again, sorry,” Sylvain chuckles easily, waving his hand. “Whoops.”

For some reason, Ashe finds the stairwell to be stuffy all of a sudden. He needs air. Standing up, he turns to look at Sylvain, and Sylvain can’t help an endeared chuckle at how fiercely serious Ashe looks.

“Wanna head to the roof?” Ashe says, feeling stupid.

Sylvain arches an eyebrow. “It’s locked.”

Ashe’s eyes shift. “N-Not for me,” he says awkwardly.

Sylvain smiles, perplexed but intrigued. “All right,” he says, standing up. “Lead the way.”

Ashe’s heartbeat resounds in his ears as he climbs the steps to the door leading to the roof. He coughs, embarrassed, and pointedly looks away from Sylvain as he kneels down and starts picking the lock.

“Oh?” Sylvain’s amused voice echoes in the empty stairwell.

“Don’t say anything,” Ashe grumbles as the door swings open. He steps out into the brisk late winter air. He inhales deeply, letting the cold wake him up a little.

“I mean, I already know,” Sylvain says, smiling.

“What?” Ashe spins around, squinting.

Sylvain tilts his head. “I’ve been watching you too,” he admits with a laugh that Ashe knows is supposed to sound easy but instead conveys an anxiety that Ashe does not have the psych degree to analyze.

“Me? Why me?” Ashe replies, eyebrows furrowed. “And even then, I haven’t--I mean--you wouldn’t… _know_ just from watching me…” Ashe has always been careful not to reveal anything about his past.

“I’m the one and only Sylvain Gautier, after all,” Sylvain chirps. “I have my ways,” he teases.

Ashe looks at him, feeling an odd mixture of horrified and flattered. “You’re crazy,” he says, finally.

Sylvain only laughs in response. “I guess so.” He looks at Ashe, making eye contact. “But, well, I…” And then he looks away, the rest of his sentence dissolved on the tip of his tongue.

Ashe knows what Sylvain wants to say. And Ashe can tell, Sylvain won't say it first, he's too careful for something like that, and so Ashe decides to do Sylvain a favor and take the plunge.

“I like you,” Ashe says.

Sylvain breaks into a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. He’s dazzling, Ashe thinks.

“I like you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> title and summary from broken by lovelytheband
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
